


Traction

by freshfuckinpot



Category: Foo Fighters
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Dirty Talk, M/M, Roleplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-23
Updated: 2018-07-23
Packaged: 2019-06-14 20:46:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15397122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freshfuckinpot/pseuds/freshfuckinpot
Summary: The thing about Taylor being sprawled across his bed isn’t that he’s taking up most of the room, it’s that he’s not paying Dave any attention at all.





	Traction

Dave taps out the end of his cigarette into the ashtray. The skyline before him is familiar, but it isn’t home. 

He walks into the hotel room, sliding the door shut behind him. Home is in here. 

The thing about Taylor being sprawled across his bed isn’t that he’s taking up most of the room, it’s that he’s not paying Dave any attention at all. In remedy to that, Dave climbs onto the bed so he can straddle Taylor, get his hands on his chest, and earn himself a hand on his thigh for his trouble. His voice cracks when he says goodbye to whoever’s on the other end of the call, and Dave catches the taste of it on the tip of his tongue as soon as the call is ended. 

And like this, with his knees on either side of Taylor’s hips, his hands holding his face in place as he licks past the seam of his lips-- now he’s paying attention. 

“Fuckin’ jealous,” Taylor murmurs, and he’s smiling, too much teeth, too crooked. 

Lucky for Dave, his own smile fits into the jagged spaces perfectly. 

“Fuck yeah, I’m jealous,” Dave says. It’s not an admission, and it’s not true, not really. His own voice cracks on the words, and Taylor snorts, swoops up for another kiss. It’s cut short when he flops himself back down on the mattress again, too quick for Dave to follow. “Wait, come back.”

“Nah,” Taylor teases, gangly legs sliding up behind Dave to secure his spot there. “Feel like taking it up the ass tonight?” 

Laughing, Dave shrugs. “We’ve gotta work on your dirty talk, man.” 

But then there’s Taylor’s hand on his dick, and he grins, shakes his head. “Seems to me that it’s working just fine, thanks.” 

He doesn’t say that he got hard as soon as Taylor started paying attention to him, but he does say, “I’m just easy.” 

There’s another snort, but Dave is too busy rutting his hips up against Taylor’s hand, reveling in the contact, in the fucking  _ attention _ . 

Maybe he is jealous, after all. 

He doesn’t know anymore. To be honest, he doesn’t care, either. Not right now, certainly, with Taylor putting pressure on his dick, grinning up at him and humming in his chest. 

But then Taylor is telling him, “You’re such a fucking brat. Can’t even finish a conversation with my wife without you crawling into my lap.” He’s curling his fingers around Dave’s dick, rubbing at him just right, until Dave is trembling, arching into the contact. “A brat  _ and  _ a slut.” 

“Yeah, well,” Dave says, grinning, leaning down until he can press their mouths together again, swallowing down Taylor’s raspy chuckle. “It’s not my fault you’ve been neglecting me.” 

Taylor laughs again, full-bellied and just a little bit disbelieving. His fingers trail from Dave’s cock to his inner thigh, dig in just enough to send pinpricks of pain through him in the sweetest way. When they return, it’s to work the button of his jeans open, to coax them down his hips until Dave’s got to break the kiss to get them off entirely, standing on the bed above Taylor, wobbling when he goes to pull them off his feet. 

“Worst stripper ever,” Taylor teases, and Dave snorts, shrugs as he finds his spot on Taylor’s lap again, leans down to shut him up. Against Dave’s mouth, “I’m not tipping you.” 

“But how else am I supposed to pay for college, Mister?” 

Taylor’s hands find their way to Dave’s ass, hold him in place as he rocks his hips up against him. “Prove to me you’re worth my money.” 

Dave mimics, grinding down against Taylor with a groan, feeling his fingers digging into Dave’s ass when he does. “Anything you want,” Dave promises. 

With a whine, Taylor tugs him down by the back of the neck, slots their mouths together hard enough to hurt. He licks past the seam of Dave’s lips, swallows down all of Dave’s sounds. Pulling away, he says, “Let me fuck you.” 

And god, it’s easy to fall into this role, to play this game with Taylor. A gasp and a whine, his eyes falling shut, Dave starts, “I’m not supposed to--”

“You said anything,” Taylor chides. “Come on, baby. Let me fuck you just this once. Nobody will know.” He slips his hand up, gets his palm around Dave’s cock through his boxers. It’s good, it’s just the right amount of pressure for Dave to press up into, to rock his hips and take what he needs. 

Through a moan, he nods his head and gives in with a, “Okay-- Yeah, yes. Please, T.” 

It’s easy-- it’s always easy-- to have Taylor giving in, to get what he wants. And right now, Taylor makes no show about getting Dave on his back, standing to go dig for lube in one of their bags. Crawling back onto the bed, he plops the tube onto Dave’s chest and leans down for another kiss, wet and warm, and Dave sighs into it heavily. 

A rough hand wiggles its way into his hair, blunt nails scratching gently at his scalp until he’s keening into Taylor’s mouth, wriggling in search of contact. He gets what he’s looking for-- always gets what he’s looking for-- in the form of Taylor’s hips rocking down against him. Dave wants to call him out on how hard he is, just like he called Dave out, but what comes out instead is a breathy, “God, you gonna fuck me or what, T?” 

“You gonna keep asking for it?” is mumbled into his skin, a smile trailing down his throat until Taylor gets to his chest. 

Around a frustrated laugh, Dave arches into the contact and says, “Come on, man.” 

“Maybe I feel like playing with you a little.” There’s the graze of teeth across his nipple, and then a wet tongue. And then, “Get my money’s worth out of you.” 

A groan tumbles out of him before he has a chance to catch it, his hands scrambling to tangle in Taylor’s hair, getting it out of his face so he can take in the smirk he’s wearing, how his eyes are bright with his teasing. “Fucker,” he murmurs, laughing. 

The bite Taylor gives him isn’t hard, but it’s hard enough, and Dave yelps, watches as Taylor sits back on his haunches. He isn’t touching Dave anymore, grabs the lube from where it’s slipped onto the mattress and pours a dollop on his fingers. 

“Take your boxers off,” he says, warming the gel between his fingers. 

A bit awkwardly, Dave wiggles out of them, tossing them onto the floor off the side of the bed. On instinct, his hand reaches down to loosely wrap his fist around himself, only to be slapped away by Taylor’s hand. 

“Quit being such a tease.” He reaches down again, only to be slapped away one more time. 

“I’ll be whatever I want,” Taylor argues. “You just lay there and take it, alright?”

His mouth works around a protest, but it stops short at the feeling of Taylor’s fingers at his hole, slick and insistent. They press clumsily, as if they haven’t done this a hundred times before, as if Taylor doesn’t know everything about him at this point. Two at once, a bit harsher than usual, slick and blunt and coaxing a grunt out of Dave. 

And he eases them back out. Leaning forward, he slots their mouths together again, licking at the roof of Dave’s mouth. He waits a beat, until Dave is sighing into the kiss again, shoulders relaxing into the mattress, before he’s pressing a single finger at his hole again, slow and easy and careful this time. When he crooks up, it’s good, there’s a familiar heat pooling in the base of his stomach. 

He rocks up into the feeling, groaning into Taylor’s mouth. Another beat, another pause, and again, he’s slipping his finger out completely. He pulls away altogether, and Dave watches him pour more lube on his fingers. 

“I’m wet enough, dude,” Dave promises. 

But Taylor shakes his head, presses back into him with two thick fingers and grins when Dave’s eyes flutter just a bit, his throat working around a thick sound. God, it’s fucking good like this, overworked and desperate for it like he is. His body is trembling just a little bit whenever Taylor touches him, and he feels like he’s going to snap in half with the tension rolling through him in waves. 

He’s so slick it’s almost obscene, but Taylor pulls out again, and he’s even wetter when he presses back inside a moment later.  

“‘Lay there and take it’, huh?” Dave laughs, squeezing his eyes shut, his legs twitching when Taylor crooks his fingers and hits him just right. 

Taylor nods, hums, and tells him, “You’re not doing a great job of it so far,” and gets his hand on Dave’s knee, spreads him a open a little wider. 

“I’m doing my best, Mister.” And the heat in Taylor’s eyes makes Dave realize. It’s as if all the receptors in his brain fire at once, and it all clicks. “ _ Oh _ .” 

Taylor avoids eye-contact when he grunts, says, “Yeah,” his voice gone a little soft, his fingers rocking into Dave at that angle again. 

Around a moan, Dave garbles out a thick, “You’re gonna take good care of me, right?” 

His words sort of slur, his eyes fluttering, his chest rising heavily as Taylor fucks his fingers into him a little rougher, harder,  _ better _ . And god, he’s fucking wet. He can feel lube dripping down his ass, Taylor’s fingers pushing the mess into him on every press inside. 

Taylor grins at him, bites his bottom lip around a nod, and drags his free hand across Dave’s stomach. He hums, and says, “The best, baby.” 

His fingers dig into the soft part of his belly just a little, kneading in time with how he’s fucking his fingers into Dave, slow and deep. And he’s watching Dave’s reactions, eyes roving over him as his eyes flutter, his legs tremble, his hands pet at the sheets underneath him on their own accord. 

After a bit, Dave says, “Please, Taylor.” It’s not enough, like this, and he wants it. He’s willing to beg, if that’s what Taylor’s looking for. He knows it isn’t what he’s looking for, not really, but the words sit on the tip of Dave’s tongue anyway. 

“Gotta make sure I don’t hurt you,” Taylor mumbles into the skin of his thigh, almost as if he’s embarrassed. He almost stutters when he says, “This is your first time, right?” 

And Dave can’t help the groan that tumbles out of him, how his head arches back into the pillow, his cock twitching against his belly. He nods, throat thick when he says, “Yeah. It’s my first time, T.” 

“Need you wet, then,” he says, and Dave watches him reach down, wrap his free hand around his cock. Against Dave’s skin, he murmurs, “Need to make sure you can take my cock, baby.” 

“I can,” Dave whines. “I promise, T, come on. Please.” 

Taylor shushes him sweetly, grinning up at Dave while he slips his fingers out of him. Dave half expects him to just push more lube into him, but there’s the wet, blunt feeling of Taylor’s cock at his hole instead, just rubbing over him obscenely. 

Again, “Come on, Taylor.” He’ll beg, he’ll scream, he’ll do whatever Taylor wants, so long as this teasing doesn’t continue for much longer. He’s grossly slick, his body gone tense all over from how bad he wants this, and Taylor is taking his sweet ass time with this whole thing. 

And fuck-- god fucking shit, when he does finally, fucking  _ finally _ , start to press inside, Dave swears he almost starts crying. 

He still takes his time, pivots his hips carefully, in a way he hasn’t since the first few times they did this, with Dave hissing and nervous and worried about pain that never actually happened. Pulling out just a bit before pressing back inside, Taylor gets a hand on Dave’s thigh, spreads him open almost uncomfortably. Dave’s almost embarrassed about being this exposed, with how hard Taylor is watching him, except he doesn’t actually care enough to be. 

It’s good. It’s wet and slow and careful, but  _ god _ , it’s fucking good. 

“Fuck, Taylor,” he grunts, hand coming to rest on his belly when he finally bottoms out, grinds his hips into Dave’s. 

And Taylor hums at him, smiles a bit wickedly, knows exactly what he’s doing. He asks, “Good?” 

Dave groans, squeezes his eyes shut for just a second. Nodding, he sinks his teeth into his bottom lip and tells Taylor, “Would be better if you’d actually fuck me.” 

Taylor lets out a laugh around a rush, and rocks his hips into Dave, fingers digging into his thigh as he does. “I told you I’d take good care of you, baby.” 

“Then fuck me.” 

“Ask for it some more.” 

He pulls out all the way then, rubs the head of his cock over Dave’s hole again. A fucking tease. 

Choking on a sob, Dave gruffs out a thick, “Please, fuck me, Taylor. Please. Come on.” 

And Taylor presses inside again, just as careful, just as slow, waits a beat when he bottoms out. His hand cups over Dave’s cock, just there for pressure as his hips work into Dave. He leans down, slots their mouths together again, licks past the seam of Dave’s lips. Everything is so wet, so much, so fucking  _ good _ . 

Flames lick down Dave’s spine, curl in the base of his stomach as Taylor rocks his hips into him. Even careful, slow, easy like they’ve never been with each other, it’s fucking incredible. Taylor curls into him, tangles his free hand in Dave’s hair so he can manhandle him around a bit, angle him how he wants. 

When he pulls away, it’s to say, “You’re a good boy, Dave,” all soft and sweet, and it’s--

God, it’s fucking nice, the words twisting their way through his veins, dripping through him like honey all thick and syrupy. They’re heavy when they land in his stomach, adding to the heat already curling there. All he can manage is a loud groan, his eyes slipping shut, his throat suddenly raw. 

“Yeah?” And he can hear the smile in Taylor’s voice, can tell he’s getting off on seeing Dave like this, exposed and sensitive like he is, all toyed with and pried open. He’s only been stretched and wet for twenty fucking minutes, pawed at and roughed up so Taylor can get off on some innocence thing. 

Still, he gives him, “Fuck yeah, baby.” His voice comes out thin, desperate, and he swallows thickly when Taylor’s hand wraps around the base of his cock, thumb tracing a distracting line. On their own accord, his hips rock up into the circle of Taylor’s fist, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip at the feeling of being so full, so slick and full, and the pressure of Taylor’s hand around him. 

His voice only cracks a little when he tells Taylor, “‘S fucking good, T.” 

And Taylor pants, his face going slack when he looks down at Dave, hand moving half-heartedly on Dave’s cock. He lets out a whine, bends so he can bury his face in Dave’s neck, his hips working into Dave with a heated, frantic sort of rhythm. 

He’s close, and Dave knows all the right buttons to push to get him there, knows that if he tells Taylor he loves him, if he rakes his nails down his back, if he squeezes too tightly, grinds his hips down just right-- knows that Taylor will come. 

So, he doesn’t do anything. He lays there and takes it. 

He arches his back, presses up into the feeling of Taylor’s hand on him, gives him a hint that he takes almost instantly. It’s the only demand he gives, and Taylor’s delivery has him keening, has his thighs trembling again. And it’s not until he feels Taylor’s teeth sink into his shoulder that he comes, body going taut, throat working around a heavy sound, hands flying to Taylor’s hair to tug him up, smashing their mouths together frantically as he works through the waves. 

God, he feels like his whole body is buzzing against Taylor’s, can feel him still fucking into him as he comes down, can hear him murmuring filth into Dave’s ear. It’s so good, like he’s floating along as Taylor’s hand slows on his cock, flattening his palm over him as he twitches through the aftershocks. 

Fuck, it’s so good. 

He slurs, “You gonna come inside me, Mister?” through a lazy grin, body gone lax against the bed. 

It catches Taylor off-guard, and his sweaty hands slip on Dave’s skin where they’d fallen to his hips. His eyes go a bit wide, and he whispers a slurry of, “Oh, fuck. Fuck, shit. God, Dave, fuck.” 

It’s easy to stretch out, shoot Taylor a self-satisfied, cheeky smile as he comes. And when he collapses forward, sweaty forehead pressed to Dave’s sternum, hands landing somewhere on Dave’s sides, it’s easy to dissolve into pleased chuckles. His hands come up to rub slow circles into Taylor’s back as he laughs, and he feels Taylor shaking with laughter right along with him. 

“Fuck, man,” he says into Dave’s skin, sitting up so he can wrap his hand around the base of his own cock, pull out carefully as Dave wiggles away, tries not to make a huge mess on the bed they have to sleep in tonight. 

Dave’s touchy, like this, all fucked-out, and Taylor knows this, is quick about getting a wet rag, coming back to bed to clean them both up the best he can before he collapses down next to Dave, lets Dave pull him close, get his hands on him. 

“You gonna tip me?” he asks after a pause. 

And Taylor groans, pats him on the side with a laugh. “We’ll discuss payment in the morning, after a shower.” 

Dave lets out a pleased hum, tells him, “Shower sex is gonna cost you more, Hawkins.” 

“Yeah, we’ll see.” 


End file.
